The Interrogation
by The Phoenix King
Summary: A Dragon Age: Asunder Creative Writing Contest entry. A newcomer to the Templar Order finds himself tested when he is charged with questioning an imprisoned apostate.


**The Interrogation**

_A Dragon Age Asunder Creative Writing Challenge Entry_

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The Templar swallowed nervously as he observed the door to the Mage's cell, a bloodstained gauntlet tentatively reaching for the handle. Today had marked his first real taste of action, a raid on a cell of apostates nestled deep within an abandoned warehouse. They had launched their attack in the hopes of disrupting their network of sympathizers and bringing the renegade mages to justice, but if he was being completely honest with himself, it was not like he had imagined real combat to be. As a child raised and taught within a Chantry orphanage, he had always been fascinated by the images of war, of the lovely frescos depicting Andraste's Exalted March against the monstrous Tevinters, of the paintings and stained glass images showing noble templars doing battle with demons and blood mages. How often had he pictured himself in the role of such a figure, a shining knight of the Chantry, sworn to the service of the Maker and armoured against the powers of darkness?

Instead, the raid against the mages had been bloody, brutal and confusing, a dash of cold water upon his idealistic hopes. For all their training and conditioning, many of the templars had still fallen to the sorceries of their prey, and they had been astonished to discover that ordinary folk had taken up arms to fight alongside the mages. Whether they were foolish enough to throw in their lot with the apostates, or enthralled through the use of blood magic was ultimately irrelevant, they had been cut down all the same. In the end, it had been a victory simply because no one was left to resist the templar attack.

"That is the nature of the enemy we face," the Knight-Commander had stated once the battle was done. "Driven, uncompromising and fanatical. For their talk of liberty and justice, mages will always resort to darker methods to obtain what they desire."

"Yes, Knight-Commander," the Templar said, standing rigidly at attention and doing his best to ignore the nervous bead of sweat trickling down his spine.

"I must say, for a newcomer to the Order, you acquitted yourself nobly today, I was rather impressed. Should you continue to do your duty in such a reliable and efficient manner, then you'll have a great future ahead of you with the templars."

"Thank you, my lord."

"As such, I have a task for you, if you're up for it. It's normally nothing I'd leave in the hands of a younger knight, but I think you can handle it."

"I would be happy to serve, Knight-Commander," the Templar replied, leaping at the opportunity.

"We managed to capture one of the apostates in this raid, a woman. She's in one of the lower cells. I want you to go and begin the initial interrogation," the Knight-Commander ordered, fixing the Templar with a cold stare. "You must always remember to keep your faith in the Maker and maintain discipline; too often, good men had been led astray by the wiles of mages, particularly female ones. Remember that the Maker has chosen you for a great task, and you must not fail Him. Understood?"

As the Templar turned to leave, the Knight-Commander gave him one final warning. "I'm hoping that you'll succeed, but should you fail, then we'll have those more capable of loosening tongues attempt."

Entering the cell, the Templar observed the Mage come to from the pommel strike on the head that had rendered her insensible in the first place. She was still in the mid-length gown the templars had captured her in, while she had been bound to a chair and kept under close watch by two of the more senior templars. In spite of all that, she held herself with a proud defiance that the Templar knew would be problematic, and met his gaze as he approached.

But what had he been expecting? A cackling magister who gloated about all the misery she perpetrated and ranted about how ordinary men and women were but vermin under her heel? A tearful apprentice, begging and pleading for forgiveness and saying her acts of rebellion had been induced by peer pressure? The apostates they had slain were powerful, organized and committed, and he doubted she would be any different.

"And who are you supposed to be?" the Mage asked disdainfully. "The latest of my minders, sent to make sure I don't become an abomination on a whim? Or do you actually have a tongue in your head? Come now, speak. What is it to be first, hmmm? The angry denunciations, decrying me as a heretic and a blight on Thedas? Or instead the questions about the rest of the movement?

Taken aback by the Mage's defiance, the Templar took a deep breath to steady himself. It would not do to show weakness in front of the prisoner. With the Knight-Commander's words of warning ringing in his ears, he approached her. "It would be the latter, in truth," he answered, pacing around the prisoner. "Besides, I doubt I could sway you from this self-destructive path now. You've departed too far from the light of the Maker for the words of any one man to have an effect."

The Mage gave a contemptuous laugh at this. "But of course! I'm an apostate, quite possibly a maleficar, and as such am beyond the restraints of civilized society. Any minute now, I'll be sacrificing children to the Old Gods and summoning demons to terrorize whole villages for my own amusement, I just know it. All because I didn't think a life with a templar blade always at my neck was a life worth living."

"Why would you jest about such things?"

"Because it is the only sensible response to such attitudes. That, and try to bring down the Templar Order."

Ignoring the last comment, the Templar pressed on. "You are accused of many crimes, mage. Flight from a Circle. Refusal to obey the directives of the Chantry's templars and priests. Killing and injuring templars. Consorting with apostates. Conspiracy to subvert the divinely mandated will of the Chantry. I know that some of the senior knights are concerned you may be a blood mage-"

"Well, that's to be expected," the Mage said drolly. "You people already assume that mages are a bad day away from blood magic, might as well make it official."

"-The punishment for which is death. You have one chance for redemption and mercy in the eyes of the Maker. We know that the group of apostates to which you belonged was but one part of a much greater organization. If you cooperate and tell us where we can find the others, then my superiors would be willing to commute your sentence to life imprisonment." The Templar paused for a moment, vainly searching for the words that would bring her to her senses, trying to ignore the growing cold that seemed to fill the cell. "There is no need for you to die, mage. Be reasonable and cooperate, for your sake if nothing else."

"Such a pretty request," the Mage replied mockingly. "You're definitely not a veteran of your bullying Order, then. They rarely waste time on such talk. Perhaps you are a novice, just having received his commission to full knighthood? One who is anxious, idealistic and eager to please? Something tells me it won't stay that way."

The Templar's face burned red with embarrassment, and the Mage smiled, knowing she had hit close to the mark. "Save your words, _boy_. I will not betray those who have put their trust in me, especially not for the likes of you."

"I should inform you that your refusal to cooperate will lead to harsher measures taken against you."

"Oh dear, you're going to torture me," the Mage stated, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Oh, please, ser templar, have mercy." Her voice grew cold, and the Templar could only watch in stunned amazement as she spat at his feet. "Anything you could do to me is no worse than what you bastards have done to mages over the centuries. Go on! Do your worst, coward! You're only going to kill a mage!"

"What injustices are you talking about? The Chantry has done nothing but shelter mages, to protect you from the worst excesses of your curse," the Templar said, his blood rising at her insults. He supposed it was typical of mages to ignore all the good the Chantry had done for them since the establishment of the Circles, to focus only on their own desires when there was so much at stake.

"You've taken us away from our families, corralled us like animals!" the Mage shot back with even greater force, the insolent mask crumbling away. "You tell us every day of our lives that we're dangerous, that we're cursed, that we have no choice but to blindly obey if we hope to survive, to submit like good little boys and girls to whatever atrocities you feel are necessary. And whenever a mage does anything you disapprove of, your Order takes it as carte blanche to rape and torture and Tranquilize and butcher as many as you see fit to keep us in our places. You control mages through fear, and now we're turning that fear against you."

"We have every reason to be afraid of you, mage!" he replied. "You are dangerous, all of you, even those who do not actively seek power. Mages cannot be left to their own devices, lest they court disaster. That is just the way of things, and there is nothing that you or I can do to change that."

"So you're just going to accept it, then," said the Mage. "You're just going to be a good little templar and allow others to make judgements for you. You will kill a hundred men to get at a single mage; you will annul Circles and hunt harmless apostates, you will blindly obey whatever command you are given, just because you can't see that the world can be changed, that it is changing before your eyes."

"The Chantry has been good to me, and I have sworn an oath to the Maker. I cannot forsake that now," the Templar replied solemnly.

"Just as I won't forsake my friends and colleagues. Tell your dog of a master to send in his torturers. I have nothing more to say to you."

The Templar sighed, turning to leave. He didn't particularly like the idea of torturing someone who couldn't fight back, but the Mage had chosen her path. Whatever happened now was of her own doing, as much as he might wish otherwise.

"Ser templar? One last thing," the Mage interjected, ending his musings.

"What it is now?"

"You are going to lose, you know that, right?" the prisoner stated calmly, as if she was discussing the possibility of rain that evening rather than the destruction of one of Thedas' oldest institutions. "The more you crack down on mages, the most resistance you will face, and the more we will fight back. You'll have to kill us all to be victorious, and even then, it may not work. Your paranoia will destroy you eventually, and soon every mage, from the lowest apprentice to the Grand Enchanter herself, will understand that the only way to be safe and free is to be rid of you, no matter the cost. And on that day, the magic will come back, all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide, and when he rises, _everyone_ will see, including you."

"He?" the Templar asked, a tremor crawling up his spine, while the two guards shifted nervously in their armour.

"Goodbye, ser templar. He will not be as merciful as I would have been."

"What in the Maker's name did she mean by 'he'?" the Knight-Commander demanded.

"I don't know, my lord," the Templar replied, occasionally casting a nervous glance back towards the cell. "But I regret that I could not force the apostate to divulge the locations of her associates."

"Disappointing, but not unexpected. Mages are frequently hard to break, but we have many methods and the time to use them all," said the Knight-Commander, gesturing for two templars clad in blood-soiled leather aprons to enter. "You should attend. It could be very instructional, and I have no doubt you'll need such skills in the future."

Once, he would have accepted without complaint. But now… "No, thank you, my lord. After so long in a mage's presence, I feel that completing my day's devotions would do me some good."

"As you wish. Be prepared to move out when I command. I have a feeling the Maker will have more work for us once we're done with the prisoner."

Even as the first screams began from below, the Templar knew it would be a long night before they received any of the answers. Stripping off his armour, he knelt before the statue of Andraste that dominated the keep's central hall, going through the motions as the Mage's words clouded his thoughts.

"_You are going to lose,"_ she had told him. Was she to be proven right?

And why did it feel it was best if she was?

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><p>AN: Just a little story I did for the recent Dragon Age: Asunder Creative Writing contest. Didn't win (or even get in the top ten), which was a shame, but it was a fun little exercise all the same, and I plan to do more stuff with the excellent setting Bioware has constructed in the future. As always, comments, suggestions and constructive criticism are much appreciated. I didn't win the contest, so obviously there is room for improvement. Thank you for all the support!


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